another
by hndsw
Summary: another month. another day. it's all about getting by, really.
1. mocking

"So, what do you think?"

"About what?" I ask looking around the room for nothing. Trying not to focus on the picture mocking me.

"The dress, girl. It's the new one." I turn my gaze to the screen.

"Wow."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, we are going out tonight. Come with us." She says slowly.

"No, thanks. I'm busy."

"With what?"

"Um. I need to finish a paper."

"It's Saturday." I nod for no reason.

"I know."

Her gaze burns a hole in my forehead.

"Listen Charlotte, I will call you tomorrow." I say quickly as I pick up my bag.

"What are you... Bella?"

"Tomorrow. Bye"

I'm in the car before tears fall down my cheeks.


	2. berlin

I like how snowflakes look on my sleeve.

White on black. How simple.

It's so cold right now, but I'm walking around the city since early afternoon.

So easy to just walk, without a constant phone calls starting with: "Are you okay, Isabella?".

I pretent I'm a stranger here.

Which is far, far away from the truth.

This city, it grew up with me. We had been shattered together.

People around me are happier. Even though it's freezing.

I take out envelopes from a mailbox and head inside.

With a mug of hot green tea and another cigarette I sit at the table.

There is a postcard hidden between bills and ads.

From Berlin.

I move to the bedroom with it in my hand. Carrying with a heavy heart.

I don't turn it to see what the words say. I never do.

Just put in next to the others

Back in the kitchen I open my email and write short massage:

_It's snowing here. Thank you. _

_I._


	3. frantic

**Every character, lyrics, etc. belongs to their respective owners. **

* * *

I lay naked in a strange man's bed.

It's cold and raining.

The snow outside had already melt. I hate March.

I watch him standing in a balcony door. Smoking.

He is tall. Has lighter hair.

We met at bar tonight.

I went out to get drunk. To forget what _it _felt like.

He bought me a drink. Then another. Another.

I danced my love for_ this one man _away with him.

We went to his place.

Frantic kisses at the door. Pushing into them. Frantic, crazy touches in the bed.

For a second I imagined it was _this one man._

I join him, now.

He smiles shyly at me. "Hi, Bella."

"Um. Hi."

We look at each other in silence.

"I think I have to go." I say.

"Will I see you again?" Him.

"Yeah. Definitely." I breath.

He watches me as I get dressed, then walks next to me all the way to the taxi waiting outside.

The air is fresh, this morning.

I inhale deeply.

Fresh air. Fresh start. Let it be. _Please._

His kiss is slow, sweet, sensual. A promise of another.

But I already had had another. With _this one man._

At home there is a postcard on my kitchen counter.

Dresden.

I put it away without reading. Like always.

And I write another e-mail.

_The air is so fresh this morning. I gave myself to a man last night. Spring is coming._

_I._


	4. i lied

**Every character, lyrics, etc. belongs to their respective owners. **

**Sorry for any spelling, etc. mistakes. **

* * *

Restaurant.

People around us are eating in silence. Focusing on their task for now.

He sits next to me.

Smiling.

I'm trying, tryin hard to smile.

But I have pictures on my mind. It seems _this one man_can't stop mocking me.

When I'm trying to build another life.

Like _he _does not want me to make it work.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh, sorry, It's just..." _Everything, help me. _"Work. Too much work."

"Yeah. I know that feeling."

I smile.

He says "Let's get out of here." I nod.

We walk out hand in hand.

I don't want to be in his car. I want to.

"Can you just drive me home, Anthony?"

His faces turns sadder. "Of course."

Anthony.

I must be a masochist.

I watch him drive away.

Then I take out a mail from last three days.

A postcard.

(I almost hoped the wouldn't be one.)

Prague.

I'm jealous.

Like with the rest I put it into box and start, what _I _want to be, my last email.

_Stop. I don't read them. I don't look at them. I don't love you, E. Go away, let me be. I went on a fucking date, tonight._

_IS_

_P.S I lied. It hurts._


	5. he says

**Every character, lyrics, etc. belongs to their respective owners. **

**Sorry for any spelling, etc. mistakes. **

* * *

I had written many postards. 31 to be exact.

One for every month away.

Thirty- one cities and towns around the world.

Over nine hundred days of the worst punishment ever.

Being away from a girl. Beautiful girl. With brown hair which shine brighter and brighter in the Sun. With this particular shade of brown eyes I can't find in any brown eyes I have met since I left. With skin so warm I burn from a single, delicate, innocent touch.

I guess she isn't a girl anymore. She's a woman I hurt over and over again because I was _that stupid_ years ago.

I had commited a crime. The worst kind of crime. And this _is my punishment. _

I will take it. No matter what.

I hope one day, when she sees another postcard from me she will read it.

Read the rest of them.

I can see it, you know. Her, sitting at that awful kitchen table, with a pack of cigarettes ( I had taught her smoking when we were 17).

And with a cup of a herbal tea she drinks all the time because it's healthy and it makes her feel less guilty for smoking so much.


	6. grow up

**Every character, lyrics, etc. belongs to their respective owners. **

**Sorry for any spelling, etc. mistakes. **

* * *

Five weeks.

I didn't get any postcard until today.

Postman handed me a letter with a smile.

And with no return address.

Ellegant writing, though, tells me it's from _him._

I leave it unopened on my bed.

(I don't need it, not today. When I can breath.)

Dressed in a simple black dress I drive away from his fucking postcards.

"Bella! You are here!" Charlotte hugs me.

It's summer now. She smells like it. And like happiness.

I wonder where I could buy it.

Oh.

"Yeah. Here, I baked it this morning." I hand her my apple pie.

Inside:

Our friends are sitting and chatting, not paying attention to me.

I get what I deserve for _the worst kind of crime._

There's someone knocking. I go and open the door without hesitation.

"Char, I'm so, so sorry." She says and looks up at me.

Her face goes blank. "Bella."

"Hi, Meg."

Suddenly, I see a crying woman with a little girl screaming in her hands.

And I can't breath. I suffocate without warning.

I hide myself in a bathroom, not caring about me crying.

Because she is here. A woman, who was my friend once. Whose husband was my friend once.

"Bella. Open the door, please."

No.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know she would be here. Give me a moment and I will go, Charlotte."

Now I see she isn't alone. "Bella. It's been three years. Come on. I'm fine now. I'm moving on."

I look at her stupid. "Megan."

"No, let me. You have hide enough. I hated you, I was mad angry, but not because of what you did. But I was left with consequences. My daugther hasn't seen her father in three years. She asks for her daddy everyday. So, my God, Bella. Grow up for fuck's sake! I could never give him what you had. He loves you. Grow up and make him come back."

_I have seen her today. She was at Charlotte's. And she was happy. _

_I envy her. I guess. But I'm not ready, Edward. She said I need to grow up. Probably._

_But right now? I'm too numb. I move, breath, function. Trying hard not to break. Another month, another day, it's all about getting by, really._

_I., yours._

_P.S This summer will be the hottest one. I will read them. Just, not now._


	7. hello

"Hello?"

"Isabella." He says quietly.

"Oh, God." I feel tears coming.

"Please, don't hang up. _Please." _I missed his voice. So much. It's like a thunderstorm after hot, hot day.

Refreshing.

I slide down the wall.

"How are you, Bella?"

"Really? How are you?" I laugh bitterly. He is quiet waiting for me. "I'm... God. I don't know. Where are you?"

"Vienna. I'm..."

"You know, I remember my mom waiting almost every night for dad to came from work. They always took their bath together. I used to pretend I was asleep because I wanted to hear their laugh. It was so rare. My parents really laughing." I take deep breath.

"What are you..."

"And now they don't talk to me. Their only daughter. I went there, today. But I am not wanted in my parents' home. I cheated with a married man. I ruined a family. It's been over three years... "

"I am sorry, Bella."

"Don't." I whisper.

And I hang up.

Because it's not enough.


	8. communication

Lack of communication is a reason many couples grow apart.

A loud laugh leaves me.

_My God._

But we didn't grow apart. We would have to be a _couple_ first.

And we weren't.

Friends. Always friends.

With excellent communication.

Then I was a secret.

A lover. A mistress. The second best.

That _other_ woman.

And there was no communication.

.

"What are you doing?" Irritation is obvious.

He is silent for a long, long time. It's been three hours since I pick up the phone. And four glasses of wine. And half pack of cigarettes. The same we first smoked.

"I want to be home, again." He says. "What will be waiting for me?"

"I don't know. Not me."

Silence. It says more, much, much more than words we speak.

"Someone else is here, now" I lie. And it breaks. I hear it breaks.

God forgive me. I pray.

"It..."

"Call home, call your daughter, Edward." I interrupt, knowing well what he's going to say.

"Bella. Fuck!" So heavy. So loaded.

I end the call when sobs, unwanted appear.

_"Adieu Tristesse, bonjour tristesse... Sadness beautiful face."_

.

How do I breath, again?


End file.
